Stop Talking, Mr Bates
by DearBeliever
Summary: What I think happened after our favourite reunited couple visit their cottage for the first time. Then, what happens as they begin married life, good and proper.
1. Chapter 1

"Just you being in this room," John breathed in his softest of tones, "is enough to make it nice."

Anna let his words wash over her with a bashful smile. Life would be like this now she mused, attending to the discarded pile of fabrics in front of her. Joy-filled days of plain speaking and unrestrained actions. She was vaguely aware of her husband quickly closing the distance between them and then, in an instant, the ancient blanket was yanked swiftly, and almost painfully, from her grasp.

"Come here." His touch was possessive, confident and overwhelming. She had never seen him like this. His embrace outside the jail walls on the previous morning had been all encompassing, yes. Pure relief and love had been evident in his eyes, his smile and most certainly in his touch. Anna had joyfully feared that he might crush her with his emphatic embrace. But this was something else.

John swept her backwards in a manner that Anna had only ever witnessed in the late night servant's showings of American pictures. The yearning and desire that she had felt during his many months in prison and, in truth, in the long years of buried feelings before, were now being reflected back at her.

As he guided them backwards onto the small, ramshackle sofa, a loud crack reverberated around the modest cottage. A jolt soon followed, and the couple dropped towards the ground instantly. Anna was the first to laugh, her hand coming to her mouth to stifle louder chuckles as dust plooms emanated around them. How typical for them, she thought to herself Foiled at every turn. John looked down towards her, eyes glowing with warmth and good humour. Had she ever seen him so at peace, she wondered? This was her John, the real John that few others truly knew. "Well, there goes that idea," he sighed, silently berating the broken sofa with a stern look.

The valet straightened his back and began to examine the room in which they sat. From this new vantage point he could see that the ceiling would need some attending to. A crack in the wall here and there he noticed too. In the silence that followed, safely away from prying eyes, Anna became keenly aware of her husband's proximity. His strong leg rested firmly against hers, his shoulder and arm wedged against her body. Fate had dictated that she had not been afforded many opportunities to become familiar with the things that many lovers savoured; the warmth of his body, or the familiar hint of his scent. But there they were now, invading her senses and making it tricky for her to still her heartbeat.

Anna closed her eyes slowly as she took in the gentle musk of his shaving soap; a fresh and intoxicating smell that was all his. She recognised it from their wedding night, when time and time again, she has nuzzled and kissed his throat and collarbone in a way that had made him grip her hips tightly and forced a long, low groan from his lips. Anna smiled, thinking back to their one night together and, emboldened by his previous actions, let her hand come to rest on his upper thigh.

"It was a most excellent notion," she smiled, pressing her lips to his arm. "But perhaps we should wait until our bedroom is fit for purpose. It won't take me long to get this place ship-shape," she added brightly, testing his resolve.

"I can help with that," John answered proudly, turning to face her. A curious smile spread across his face at Anna's raised eyebrow. "I can," he insisted, playfully digging his hand into her side, causing her to wriggle and yelp so pleasingly and in a way that only he would ever know. She deserved to live her days in this carefree manner, he thought to himself. He would see to it that she would smile like this as often as possible.

John took the opportunity to loom over her, pushing her backwards into the arm of the derelict sofa and allowed his cane and hat to topple to the floor with an echoing thud. "Within and out with these walls, I swear to you now, that I will be the best husband to you that I can. Nothing will be too troublesome for me where you are concerned, my love. To be here with you like this" he whispered, his dark eyes seemingly trying to burrow their way into hers, "is something I never dared dream."

Anna pulled him down towards her by his lapels, unable to formulate a verbal response to his sweet promise. John's weight rested on top of her dainty frame and Anna could not believe how comforting his bulk felt above her. She felt protected, grounded and, most importantly, truly loved and desired. It was a heady mix and she could see that the same intoxicating waves were beginning to cascade over him too. John was looking at her with adoring eyes and although she initially attempted to hold his intense gaze, their lips hovering mere inches from each other's, she felt herself blush and involuntarily look away.

A gentle finger pulled her chin back level with his own and his lips claimed her top lip in a gentle, insistent kiss. John's mouth and teeth were beginning to make her senses spin. He was kissing her fully now. Long slow kisses, the kind of which Anna had never known. All she could do for the moment was allow herself to be worshipped by him like this, letting him teach her how to love like this. Anna was enjoying the way his tongue was teasing and tasting her lips, but all too soon the sensation was gone. But before she had let the soft sigh she was mustering escape, his ardent intentions had continued at the base of her throat.

"John," she moaned, her head tilting back in a silent urge for him to continue.

"Yes, my love." His voice was more rough than usual, a slow rumble ending in a whisper. "How do you feel, Anna?"

"I can never recall feeling better," she replied. The lady's maid's eyes were half-lidded and she reached up eagerly to grasp at the short strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

With the hand that was not cradling her head, John began an exploration of her clothed flank and hip. His possessive fingers desperately sought access to her soft skin but he recalled Anna's words from moments before about waiting until their new home was complete and, in Anna's words, "comfy." Although he himself was only too happy to proceed as they were, he did not think it appropriate to ask his beloved wife to make love in their current restricted circumstances. So instead he placated himself by continuing to caress her body in a more chaste way, re-acquainting himself with her gentle curves and the assortment of things that made her breathing hitch.

John focused his attention on her earlobes and grinned almost boyishly when he felt her hips respond to his ministrations. Anna was now pressing herself to him and she could, no doubt he assumed, feel the extent of his desire for her.

"Anna…" he growled, hardly recognising his own voice. "You feel far too good." John was aware that things were fast hurtling towards the point when he would find it nigh on impossible to reign himself in. The feel, taste and sight of his flushed wife beneath him was becoming too much to resist. He steadied himself for a moment and kissed her sweetly on the lips, before pushing up onto his forearms.

She saw the hesitation in his eyes and felt the sombre ease of his weight leaving her body. "John, please, I want this," Anna stated, her voice taking on a more keening lilt than she had intended. Her long fingers smoothed the front of his shirt and an involuntary shiver cascaded through him. Bereft of this kind of intimacy for so long, the valet struggled to maintain his inherently strong and stoic resolve to do what was proper. He ran a hand through the loose strands of hair that had fallen towards his right eye and watched Anna's chest rise and fall. A slow exhale followed in which he sought clarification in her eyes.

"I want you here… and now." His wife's voice was steady and confident. His beautiful and strong Anna. His angel. "It may not be perfect, but it is right. And I don't think I can wait a moment longer to lay with you again and be yours again," she finished firmly. Her wide, blue eyes stared up at him and he swore silently to himself.

His lips crushed hers, his hands pulled at her skirt and his knees nudged her legs apart all at the same time it seemed to Anna. All she could do initially was to grip tightly to his shoulders and then move to try to gain as much access to his torso as she could. All the while, his hands, lips and teeth teased and awakened her time and time again. After a few minutes, John pulled back to undo his belt, and then Anna's fingers joined his to slowly open the front of his trousers and force them down. Once he had settled back on top of her, he suddenly became a little more inhibited. Anna too felt the tension creep into his body.

"Anna, my love, I may not be able to give you everything I want to just now," John spoke into his wife's ear, his eyes forced shut in regret. "To love you in the way that you deserve. But later when…"

She cut off his words with a resounding kiss of her own. "We have all the time in the world to learn about each other. To love each other," she whispered in between kisses. He had known no other who could calm him like this, who could see into the very depths of him as his Anna could. What had he done to deserve this most blissful of creatures? "But for now… please stop talking, Mr Bates."

He laughed whole-heartedly before Anna's hands drifted lower, reminding him of her pressing needs as well as his own. Right way, John grasped her hips and bottom, forging a somewhat awkward alignment on the restrictive couch. However, by the look on his wife's face, she did not care one once.

"As you wish, Mrs Bates. As you wish."


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't the first argument they had weathered since settling into married life and attempting to navigate the intricacies of working side by side. It was, though, the first time that he had ever raised his voice to her.

It was a fleeting moment of thundercloud anger but, in its wake, Anna had been left reeling. John stood rigid, his hand still gripping the doorframe at the entrance to the servant's hall. He stared at her, his lips parting almost imperceptibly as the harshness of his outburst began to filter through. Try as he might, he couldn't read the expression on his wife's usually so expressive face. Shock. Disappointment. Anger. Sympathy. Confusion.

The sounds of Mrs Patmore moving noisily in the kitchen parallel to them brought Anna out of her momentary daze. She lifted her eyes to meet his, defiantly blinking away the tears that threatened to topple.

"Anna, I didn't…" his voice hitched without warning.

"Well, you did, John," she shot back, causing him to flinch. "But I'm not a china doll; I shan't fracture into a million pieces because my husband allows his silly pride to rule his emotions."

The air seemed to have been sucked from his lungs as she turned and hurried up the stairs away from him. She hurried a little too quickly for his liking. Was Anna now desperately trying to stifle disappointed sobs as she made her way to Lady Mary's bedroom, he wondered. In the vacuum that was left behind, he slammed his fist into the wood and spun to raise his eyes to the heavens. He paced back and forth, from the door to the table and back again, unsure of how to best remedy the mess he had created.

He became aware of a quiet presence behind him. "Everything alright, Mr Bates?" Mrs Patmore enquired in an all too innocent tone. He glanced down at the floor beneath him before turning slowly. She didn't miss a trick, Mrs Patmore.

John forced a thin smile onto his lips and nodded, meeting her gaze. "Yes, thank you."

Still she made no move to get back to her duties. The silence was unsettling between them and he just wished she would forget her well-meaning intentions and leave him be. Instead she now moved towards him and spoke in a tone he did not think possible for her. "It'll be alright, Mr Bates. She's an understanding girl, your Anna," Mrs Patmore affirmed sympathetically. "But just make sure it's a good apology," she winked.

A low chuckle burst free despite his best efforts. "Indeed. Thank you, Mrs Patmore."

Anna turned the corner towards their cottage, glad of the solitary walk home and the time to work through the events of the day. Lady Mary had left for London and, upon seeing her initial crestfallen mood that afternoon, had urged Anna to return home rather than mending her new head-piece that evening.

She turned the key in the lock and systematically stripped herself of the events of the day. Easing herself out of the bath twenty minutes later, Anna pulled on her robe and examined herself in the mirror. She certainly felt a good deal better now. She could even raise a small smile at the memory of the tortured expression on her husband's face as they sat side by side to receive instructions from Mr Carson earlier. Still, the sting of his words continued to smart and she would not hurry to appease him. Anna glanced at the clock and began gathering her things in the bathroom. John would be home soon and she wanted to make sure that she was best placed to gain the upper hand upon his return.

Anna readied herself for bed and pictured the forlorn manner in which he was most likely making his way home at that very instant. Practising words of apology and reassurance, no doubt, she thought. Blaming himself and promising not to behave in such an inappropriate manner whilst at Downton again.

In truth, Anna had gained some perspective over that lunchtime's events quite swiftly after climbing the stairs from the servant's quarters. He had been entirely wrong to raise his voice in anger, that was clear. Yet she herself had scolded him from time to time and, to date, he had never once retorted or held it against her. "Marriage is like a huge block of stone," her mother had once told her, much to Anna's amusement. "All the troublesome spots and clashes that occur are opportunities to shape that stone into something new. They take off some of the sharp edges. It evolves, Anna. Nobody is perfect. Not even your dear, Mr Bates."

She smiled at the memory and also at the derision with which she met her mother's words at the time. Anna climbed into bed, hurrying to settle herself comfortably when she heard his familiar routine emanate from below. She could make out the faintest slip of material as he hung up his jacket, followed by the soft rattle of keys being hung on the hook by the door, then the quiet scrape of the kitchen chair as he sat to remove his boots. John always did this when he returned after her, mindful that she might be sleeping and knowing that his gait was not the quietest when climbing their stairs. He probably hopes that I'll be sleeping, Anna mused with a shake of her head. She prepared herself for the gentle turn of the doorknob.

A moment later the latch lifted and the door opened with a slow creak, his face coming into view in the dull candlelight. "Hello," he breathed upon observing her sitting upright in bed. He subsequently shifted from one foot to the other and appeared unsure of whether to cross the threshold or not. He merely held his ground, the door still not fully open.

"Hello," Anna answered, unblinking. "Please come in and close the door, you're letting the cold air in." He really was making this all too easy for her.

"Of course, sorry." John closed the door quickly and busied himself by getting ready for bed. He desperately wanted to get washed first and murmur his apologies to her later in the comforting darkness of their room. He could feel her eyes burning into him as he shed his clothes and knew he deserved her mirth. Seeing the look of disappointment on her face for a moment longer was just too much for him after such a long, trying day.

He fished a fresh towel from their chest of drawers and, dressed in his trousers and undershirt, turned to make his way back out of the room.

Anna had had enough. It had gone on too long already. "John, stay a moment," she spoke softly. She fixed him with her eyes and patted the empty space to her right. His space.

He had barely settled himself on the bed next to her before haphazard words came tumbling from his mouth. "It shouldn't have happened and I'm ashamed that I frightened you, Anna. I know that you only meant to stand up for me and, instead of saying thank you, I repaid your support by berating you. I'm sorry, my love. Truly" John picked up her hands and rubbed his lips against her knuckles, willing her to feel the weight of his remorse.

She exhaled noisily but, frustratingly, did not speak encouraging words nor turn from him in annoyance. He silently wondered what in heaven's name she wanted him to do. What more could he say?

Anna's resolve was at breaking point and she was beginning to feel dizzy from the emotions rising and falling within her. His apology was all she needed but, now, having him before her in his appealingly dishevelled state, she longed to hook her hand around his neck and have his weight envelop her. John's hair had fallen forward, most likely due to the many times he had run his fingers through the strands on his ambling walk home. Anna swallowed. And then there were the open buttons at the top of his undershirt that he had left open in his haste to exit the room. The heightened emotions in the room made for a heady mix.

"John," she breathed. He leaned forward and moved his arms to rest one hand either side of her body, eagerly awaiting her next words. "It's alright." She cupped his cheek and stroked his lower lip with her thumb. "I won't lie, I wasn't happy at your reaction to my words to Jimmy. You blew it out of all proportion. But it is in the past, love. I'm sure we will encounter many more serious tests than this."

She took his face in both hands now and guided his lips to hers, letting him know that it was alright for him to take control." After a few moments, he pulled back with a final languid kiss.

"I just want to be clear, Anna," he said, the tip of his tongue darting out to seek the remnants of her taste. "You were right when you said my pride got the better of me." Anna sighed and squeezed his solid forearm, attempting to his halt his progress. "No, let me, please," he stated determinedly. "You see, Jimmy is just a young cocky lad trying to prove himself. "

"Trying too bleeding hard," Anna interjected.

John smiled warmly, brushing damp, loose strands of her hair behind her ear. "Yes, perhaps. But we have butted heads a few times now and he still resents me somewhat for my forthrightness about the Thomas situation too. He bites at me and I bite back even harder. That's the way of it and he had been beginning to know his place a little more at Downton." John paused, choosing his words carefully. "So when you jumped in and stood up for me today, before I had the chance, it just made me feel a little less…" He shook his head at his own stupidity. "It just gave him the opportunity that he was waiting for."

Anna understood everything he had said. He needn't have had to utter it really. "Male pride, Mr Bates. A dangerous thing." Her lips went to his ear and sucked on the little spot behind it determinedly. "You are a good man, John Bates. A good leader. But if you think that I will let any cheeky little upstart talk rubbish about my husband within my earshot, then you are sadly mistaken."

His fingers had already pushed her nightdress from her shoulders and his head dipped towards the cleavage now revealed to him. "Perhaps next time, you give me a chance to defend myself first though?" he questioned, taking in the soft, perfumed skin beneath his lips. She had used the bath salts that Lady Mary had given her again. She knew what it did to him, the temptress.

Anna craned her head back as his wet kisses turned into soft, teasing bites and nibbles. "I think I can manage_ that_!" The last word was forced from her lips by a deliciously wicked tug.

"And while we are on the subject of our marital partnership," John continued, drawing up her night dress to marvel at her lack of undergarments. "The next time Thomas is being rude to you or speaks to you in a demeaning manner, do I have your permission to punch his shiny teeth down his throat?" he asked with a playful smirk. "Fair is fair after all."

She laughed and pulled him up to crush her lips to his. Anna's hands made their way under his tight shirt to caress the soft skin of his stomach, enjoying the slight undulations that always followed her caresses. Soon the desire to feel more overcame her and she yanked the undershirt over his head with a ferocity that took him aback.

John was over her at once. Squeezing her possessively and moving to hold her arms firmly above her head. He liked this game very much, the wicked grin on his face testimony to it. It was not something they had done too often, but he knew from the rise of her hips and the way that she bit at the corner of her mouth that she enjoyed it as much as he.

"If this is what an argument does, then I think we should agree to have more," he murmured, manoeuvring himself to rest between her legs without relinquishing his purposeful grip on her hands.

Anna's eyes were closed in concentration, revelling in his assured touch. She wasn't quite certain what words it was that he had just uttered, nor did she care. "Mr Bates," she sighed, her breath becoming more uneven by the second. "Please stop talking."

Upon hearing her keening tone, he growled in her ear. The heat was searing her. She was aware of the brush of his eyelashes against her cheek as he squeezed them shut. "Gladly."


	3. Chapter 3

"What do think of the table over here, love?"

Anna took a step back. Then another. She tilted her head to the side, carefully appraising her latest adjustment as she ran a hand over her growing belly.

"Hmm?" John replied vaguely from the corner, thumbing the newspaper in the dimming evening light.

"The table, John, do you think it looks better over here? Or perhaps…" she swept quickly across the living room floor, "closer to the window would gain better light for stitching?"

"You know better than me, Anna. I trust your judgement." His tone was flat, John feeling altogether too tired to feign excitement over the latest bout furnishing upheavals.

Anna herself had initially responded to his lack of interest in the recent homemaking activities with good-natured banter, understanding that it had been an arduous time for him.

The month had begun with an unscheduled trip to London with Lord Grantham to tie up the final details of Mr Crawley's estate. Since then, John had been staying later and later at the abbey each night at the Earl's behest. Upon collapsing into bed the previous night, John had confided in her that he suspected Lord Grantham could not bear to be alone in the evenings. He missed his son-in-law's counsel and companionship in those hours, John surmised. Although Mr. Branson had gone to great lengths to ingratiate himself to the family, theirs was still more of a working relationship than a familial one. John felt more deeply indebted to Lord Grantham than he could ever attempt to repay in a dozen lifetimes, so to lose a little sleep in order to give the lord some form of solace was no sacrifice at all to him.

"John, I understand that you're tired. I am too," Anna sighed, swiping a stray lock of hair from her flushed cheek. "But you're beginning to make me feel like a pest for trying to make our home as comfortable as possible for the baby."

He slowly lowered the paper, a deep and thoughtful frown at once evident on his face. She had his attention now.

"It's just, we agreed that we would work together to make sure we had a home worthy of bringing a child into. Somewhere that was truly ours, that justified the struggles and sacrifices we've had to face to get to this point. And to be quite plain with you, John," Anna motioned around the room with her arms flung wide, "in recent months you've been about as much use as... as Isis!"

He chuckled, sympathetic to her point of view, but growing increasingly amused at the ferocity with which she was now remonstrating. Anna's hands now came to rest determinedly upon her waist. The beautiful, tiny waist that John was still so enthralled with after all this time. It had barely changed at all, he mused, despite her being five months into the pregnancy.

"Now, even a simple opinion is too much? A year ago, I could hardly prise the blasted paint brush away from you, but recently…"

John bit his lip and stood, holding his palms up in silent surrender. "Permission to speak?"

"Permission granted, I suppose," Anna huffed as her husband's bare forearms made their way around her waist and tightened. She could feel her resolve fracturing slightly, she had always loved it when he rolled up his shirt sleeves, ever since the first time she worked alongside him in the servant's hall and observed his strong arms. She couldn't stop herself from staring that afternoon, or on every occasion since, truth be told.

"It's just that you're so much better at this than I am. I did try to help but in the last few months, Anna, you've been quite," John paused. This was not the time to utter the wrong word. "Quite forthright, perhaps, about what will and won't do for the nursery and down here, so I wrongly assumed that you wanted to be left to do it alone."

Anna remained silent for a few moments. "I know that I've been a little indecisive since I became pregnant." John knew better than to laugh or to even utter a breath. "But I want you to _want_ to help. I want us to be a team, as silly as that might sound. I know Lord Grantham needs you right now, John. But I need you too." Anna looked up at him with tired eyes and reached to wrap her arms around his neck. "It's been a little lonely around here recently, falling asleep each night without you."

The delicious pout she was wearing made it difficult for him to argue with her. Plus, she had a point, John had to concede. He had been forced to neglect her somewhat over the last weeks but, nevertheless, he should have made more of a concerted effort to support her in any little way he could.

"I'm sorry, my love," he stated softly, his dark eyes shining with sincerity. "I'm always here for you, thinking of you, even when I can't _actually_ be here."

Anna shook her head, "I know, I know, I shouldn't be making you feel guilty. Recently my emotions seem to change with the wind, my energy is waning, my concentration is fleeting," Anna rolled her eyes and sighed loudly, "my ankles are hideous…"

John let out a long, throaty laugh that he rarely afforded others. It was infectious and before long they both stood holding each other and rocking with laughter.

"I think your ankles are very fine," John whispered, kissing her lips gently. "Very fine indeed."

"Really?" Anna breathed, her breath hitching as his lips made their way to her neck.

"Yes, and not just your ankles." He continued to deliver torturously slow kisses to her neck causing Anna to writhe in his arms, desperate to gain as much contact as possible. A master tactician, he knew exactly where to target with his lips in order to tease out the deep moans that so pleased him. His kisses held such intensity that Anna could never tire of them.

"Your waist," John continued between kisses, squeezing her tightly. He then lowered his hands possessively, "the curve of your hips too." He pulled her so that she was now flush against his frame and held her firmly. He could feel her breasts crushed against his chest and was reminded of the way in which they had gradually become fuller in the last month. "And certainly these," he said raggedly, skimming his hands up her sides to the underside of her breasts. He ran his thumbs in determined circles and even through her clothing he could tell that he was affecting her. Her eyes had fallen shut and she had begun to return his kisses in a mindless fashion, operating purely on sensation.

Anna pressed her hands to his chest and walked her husband backwards to their new sofa. A far more sturdy and resilient proposition than the one they had encountered upon first moving in. Once John was settled she moved to straddle him, leaning on his substantial shoulders as she came to rest her weight on top of his. She gathered up her skirt so that she could increase their intimacy, receiving a growl from John as she pressed against his growing arousal. He cradled her head and reclaimed her lips at once, unable to stop his hips from rocking slightly. They both allowed the sensations to wash over them for a few minutes. It had been weeks since they had made love, which, in the context of their marriage, was a significant amount of time.

"Upstairs," he gasped, "would be…" Anna tugged his hair in the way that made his blood race. _My naughty girl_, he thought to himself before regaining his trail of thought. "…perhaps more comfortable for you."

"I can't wait that long, Mr Bates," she answered quickly, lowering her hand to open the button of his trousers. "And I think that, given what we discussed earlier, you should be willing to adhere to your pregnant wife's every wish and need." She was purposely teasing him with her hand now, the contact not nearly firm enough to grant him the relief he craved.

John had managed to open her blouse and now kissed the tops of her breasts passionately, the considered kisses of moments ago now given way to wanton desire. His hands slid up her thighs and sought out the heat that inevitably awaited him. "Your wish is my command, Anna. It always will be. You make me…"

Anna's small hands held his cheeks and brought his head up to rest inches from her own, their eyes meeting in the now moonlit room. "Please stop…" she began, momentarily captivated by the coarse stubble that had appeared on his face and now crept towards his upper lip.

John suddenly moved forward and captured her lips again, swallowing her words and stopping her from finishing the sentence that he had grown so familiar with during their time in the cottage. Anna let out a joyous laugh as she felt his mouth curve knowingly against hers. The curtains, the clock, the rug… None of it truly mattered. She had him. The baby had him. And they both had a fuller life than either of them had ever dreamed of.


End file.
